


The time Draco Malfoy met his fake boyfriend's parents

by mfingenius



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Muggle, Don't copy to another site, Fake/Pretend Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-06
Updated: 2019-06-06
Packaged: 2020-04-11 18:59:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19115761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mfingenius/pseuds/mfingenius
Summary: Draco is in love with Harry.Harry is in love with Draco.Neither sees how being in a fake relationship with someone you're in love with is a bad idea.





	1. Chapter 1

“I’m not sure this is a good idea, Harry.” Draco says nervously.

“Scared, Malfoy?” Harry flashes a smile before turning back to the road, hands loose around the steering wheel. The smile and the easiness with which he’s talking do funny things in Draco’s ribcage; send his heart fluttering and his tummy doing cartwheels.

Really, when he agreed to be Harry’s fake boyfriend for a while, he expected it to help him get over his crush, not send him spiraling deeper into it.

“You wish,” Draco scoffs weakly. He knows it doesn’t come out right when Harry takes a look at him again, frowning lightly. 

“You know we don’t have to do this, right?” he says. “I was just teasing - I don’t want yout to be uncomfortable. Say the word and I’ll turn the car around.”

And Draco knows he would. They’ve been friends for four years now, since they were eighteen, and Draco’s been half in love with him for a long,  _long_  time. Not that he’d ever admit it to anyone but himself. 

And Pansy, but that wretch forced it out of him while he was shit-faced drunk.

“No, it’s alright.” He says, looking out the window. If he keeps looking at Harry any longer he’ll confess right here. “I’m just… a bit nervous is all.”

Harry’s eyebrows raise. “You? The  _great_  Draco Malfoy, nervous-”

“Shut it, you prick.” Draco scowls lightly, shoving at Harry lightly. “I’ll tell your mother how much of a bastard you are to your sweet, dear, boyfriend-”

Harry laughs, and it lights someting inside Draco that he didn’t even  _know_  before Harry.

“She wouldn’t believe you,” Harry says smugly, eyes impossibly green. “She’d think you’re a liar.”

“No, she wouldn’t.” Draco says, a lot more confidently than he feels. “She’ll love me.”

“Yeah, she will,” Harry says, and Draco blinks, stunned. Harry clears his throat, and if Draco’s not wrong, goes a little red. He must be imagining it. Harry doesn’t blush. “So, plan for tonight?”

Draco nods, because  _yes, a plan_. This is something to rely on, a  _plan_.

“We met six years ago at Uni, that’s true.” Draco dictates. “We don’t lie about Uni, alright? We did go camping together, I had a boyfriend, you were dating the Weaslette, all of it stays the same. However, when I started working with you-”

“For me,” Harry chuckles, and Draco swats at his arm before he continues speaking.

“ _With_ you,” he says pointedly. He doesn’t work  _for_  Harry, no matter what he says. Just because he’s Harry’s secretary - which, mind, is a lot harder than it seems, he’s got an insane schedule on the best days, - and Harry’s  _technically_  his boss… oh, who’s he kidding? He does work for Harry. He’ll never admit it to is face though. “When I started working  _with_  you, we had to spend a lot of late nights together,” not a lie. “I started to fall for you,” also not a lie. “You started to fall for me,” A lie, as much as Draco wishes it weren’t. “And you kissed me on Luna’s New Year’s Eve party, outside. We’ve been together since.”

Harry nods. “Seems like you have it all planned out.”

Draco looks out the window again so Harry can’t see how red his cheeks go. In Luna’s New Year’s Eve party he’d been hoping that Harry would kiss him. He’d daydreamed about it for months.

“I came up with it this morning,” He lies. “Your parents will never believe us if we don’t have a good story.”

Harry hums in agreement, and then pulls over into one of the houses on the street.

“We’re here,” he says. “Are you ready?”

Draco swallows and nods.

* * *

 

They’ve been at his parents’ house for four hours now, and Harry is beginning to regret bringing Draco over.

Hermione had warned him countless times when he told her about this that playing ‘fake boyfriends’ with the person you’re in love with would only make his heart break, but he hadn’t listened.

She was right.

Watching Draco speaking with his parents - talking to his mom about  _gardening_ of all things, and to his father about sports - and talking to Remus while playing with Teddy, and even how he gets along with Sirius - something none of them expected - is only making his heart ache with the knowledge of just how good they could be if this were real.

It isn’t, though.

_He loves you, too, you know?_ Luna had said at her party.  _He feels just like you do_.

Harry thinks about it every day. Although in unusual ways, Luna is often right. However, he can’t see how she’s right here. Draco’s the most gorgeous person Harry’s ever laid eyes on, and he’s kind, and clever, and an incredible, utter  _bastard_  when he wants to be. His wit and his sharp tongue are half the reasons why Draco’s so good at managing Harry’s schedule. He doesn’t take shit from anyone, costumers or superiors alike.

And now,  _now_  he’s been dumb enough to bring the git home, hoping somehow this would make him realize that he’s been ridiculous to fall head over heels for one of his best friends, but it only does the opposite. Everything Draco does just makes Harry fall a little bit more in love with him.

“Are you ready to go?” Draco asks, smiling warmly at him from where he’s sitting on the floor playing with Teddy.

“Yes, love.” The term slips easily between them, and Harry sees Draco go red, which Sirius coos at, earning a glare from Harry.

They say their goodbyes, and when they’re back in the car, Harry clears his throat.

“I think that went well.” he says.

“Very well,” Draco nods. He smiles - Harry’s heart skips a beat - and then stretches, making a pleased sound, and then proceeds to tease. “You’re good at pretending to be in love with me, Harry. Anything you want to tell me?”

Harry laughs, even as his stomach tightens. 

“Yes,” he agrees. “Pretending.”

Draco sends him an odd look, but neither of them say anything.


	2. Chapter 2

“Mr. Potter, Mr. Zabini is here for you.” Harry’s lips quirk at Draco’s professional - but thoroughly fake - secretary voice. He always teases him for it, and it always makes Draco’s cheeks go the most delicious shade of red before he usually hits Harry with a pillow or other available soft objects.

“Thank you, Draco,” Harry says politely. They like to keep a professional working relationship - they’re not fooling anyone, with how often they lose said professionalism - and that usually involves not calling each other things like ‘Ferret’ or ‘scarhead’. “Send him in.”

Blaise Zabini is a stellar businessman, and Harry enjoys their meetings more than his meetings with others for the sole reason that Blaise is Harry’s age, unlike the usual people Harry makes business with, all forty years his senior.

“Zabini!” Harry smiles and stands, shaking Zabini’s hand and clapping him on the back.

“Potter!” Zabini claps his back with a smile. “How’ve you been?”

“Good, good.” Harry says, sitting back behind his desk. “And you?”

“Good,” Zabini nods. “How’s business?”

“Good,” Harry nods. “And for you?”

“Good,” Zabini nods. “Shall we begin, then?”

They get through their meeting with minimal interruption - only twice, both times Draco. The first time bringing Harry his usual eleven a.m. coffee - he brings him a coffee every few hours and gets one for himself, too, since they usually work late - and the second time bringing them a few files Harry asked for. 

When it’s over, Harry stands and shakes his hand. Zabini scratches the back of his neck. 

“Err, Potter, I’ll be unprofessional for a moment.” He says. “Do you happen to know if Draco’s single?”

Harry freezes for a moment.

“Draco.” He repeats. 

Zabini nods.

“Single.” Harry says.

Zabini nods again, then frowns. “Unless there’s something going on with you two?”

“No,” Harry says immediately, and immediately regrets it. If he’d lied to Zabini all of this could be avoided; he wouldn’t ask Draco out, and Harry could spend another four years working up the nerve to do so himself.

“Oh,” Zabini says. “Is he single, then?”

“Yes,” Harry says reluctantly.

“Alright,” Zabini says. “Thanks, Potter.”

Harry makes a disgruntled noise as Zabini walks away. After his door is closed, Harry stares at them through the glass wall separating his office from the rest of the building, trying to hear what’s going on on the other side, but though he can hear voices, he doesn’t understand what they’re saying.

He sees Draco laugh, and then Zabini says something and Draco’s cheeks turn red.  _That’s not fair_ , his brain supplies jealously,  _I should be making him blush, not_ Zabini.

_Say no_ , Harry thinks slowly.  _Say_ no.

Draco doesn’t nod, but he doesn’t shake his head, and Zabini’s shoulder is covering Harry’s view of Draco’s lips, so he doesn’t know if he says no. A moment later, Zabini leaves, and Draco’s standing uncertainly with red cheeks, fiddling with his nails

As much as Harry wants to call Draco into his office and ask him if he’s going to go on a date with Zabini, he forces himself to sit down and busy himself with paperwork.

After a few minutes, Draco comes into his office, looking uncertain.

“Zabini asked me out.” He says without any prompting.

“Oh?” Harry looks up, trying to school his expression into something neutral.

“I said yes.” He looks a little surprised at himself because of that.

“Oh?” Harry asks. Something in his chest is protesting very loudly at that, telling him to grab Draco’s hips and wrap him in a blanket burrito, and keep him fed, and happy, and in his arms so he never wants to go out with anyone else again.

“Yeah.” Draco clears his throat. He doesn’t continue, and Harry doesn’t know what he’s waiting for. For Harry to say it’s okay? It’s not, even if their ‘relationship’ was fake.

“Well, we’re only fake dating.” Harry clears his throat. “And only in front of our parents. You can go out with whoever you like.”

“I know.” Draco says. He looks affronted.

“Fine.” Harry says, a little more roughly than he meant to. When Draco doesn’t move, Harry continues uncomfortably. “I have work to do.”

He’s never dismissed Draco from his office like that before; he can see the hurt in Draco’s face, and before he can say anything to fix it - or make it worse - Draco’s nodding curtly and walking out.

They don’t talk for the rest of the day.

That night, Harry’s rudely woken up by the sound of his cellphone ringing insistently on the nightstand. When he sees  _Draco_ on the screen, he picks up immidately.

“Is everything alright?” he asks immediately.

There’s silence on the other end of the line for a couple seconds, and then Draco finally speaks. 

“Can you come pick me up?” he asks. His voice sounds small.

“Of course,” Harry pulls his glasses on and sits up. “Where are you?”

“Zabini’s apartment.” He says. Then, “The sidewalk in front of Zabini’s apartment.” 

“I need something a little more specific than that.” Harry says, pulling on joggers and grabbing the keys to his car.

Draco gives him an address, and Harry gets there as fast as he can. He finds Draco sitting on the sidewalk with his shirt buttoned wrong and his belt open.

“Are you alright?” Harry asks as he pulls up, leaning over the passenger’s seat to open the door.

Draco stands, sniffling, and gets into the car, not bothering to answer.

Harry drives in silence for a while. After a while, Draco speaks.

“He kissed me.”

“Oh?” He takes another look at Draco’s half undressed state, and frowns slightly, dread pooling at his chest. “Did he do something you didn’t want?”

Draco shakes his head, and the knot in his chest loosens a little bit. 

“I wanted to sleep with him.” Draco says. There’s an odd tilt to his head. “But I couldn’t.”

Harry frowns. “Are you - are you drunk?”

“A little bit,” Draco admits. Harry pulls over in front of Draco’s apartment building, and turns the car off a second before Draco scrambles over into his lap. Harry’s heartbeat picks up. 

“What are you doing?” he murmurs, looking down at Draco’s lips. 

“I want to kiss you,” Draco whispers. “Can I? Please?”

Harry swallows. This is what he wants, he knows. This is what he’s wanted for three years now, and yet…

“You’re drunk.” he says. “You don’t really want this.”

“I haven’t been drunk every day for the past four years.” Draco breathes. “And I still wanted this then.”

Harry’s heart stutters. He places his hands on Draco’s thighs. “You’re going to regret this tomorrow.”

“I won’t.” Draco wraps his arms around Harry’s neck. 

For a second, they just breathe, noses touching, lips an inch apart. Finally, Draco speaks.

“Kiss me,” He breathes.

Harry does.


	3. Chapter 3

Draco picks up a coffee for himself - with three esspresso shots - and one for Harry - his usual latte - on his way in to the office. He’s already in the elevator when he considers turning back. He’d considered calling in sick, but there was no way Harry would believe that excuse, even knowing Draco’s hungover. He’s seen Draco go to classes and pull twelve-hour workdays through worse.

His head’s pounding lightly, and most memories are blurred at the edges because of the alcohol, but he remembers asking Harry to kiss him. He remembers Harry  _kissing him_.

He also remembers how Harry had put him to bed after, and remembers he’d begged him to stay. Harry had stayed until he fell asleep, but evidently, he’d left right after, because Draco woke up to an empty apartment and a cold bed.

He’s fidgeting and drumming his fingers against the cups of coffee nervously, trying to convince himself that he hasn’t just ruined his friendship with Harry. 

Nothing entirely convinces him, but he at least manages to soothe himself by rationalizing that Harry’s not even going to be in the office right now; Draco usually gets in an hour before he does, and Harry’s first meeting isn’t until eight thirty. He’ll have the top floor all to himself - only himself and Harry work there - for long enough to work out a plan on what to do if things are awkward.

However, all thoughts slip as he steps out of the elevator and sees Harry standing there, holding a bouquet of flowers and shuffling nervously. He flushes slightly when he sees Draco.

“Good morning.” He clears his throat.

Draco can feel the heat rising to his face, and he clears his throat, too. “Good morning.”

Neither of them move much, until the elevator doors begin to close again and Draco remembers that he needs to get out. He does so with as much dignity as he can imagine - which isn’t much - and walks over to his desk, placing his things down and handing Harry his cup of coffee. 

Harry takes it, and offers Draco the bouquet of flowers. They’re sunflowers; Draco’s favorites.

“So, err,” Harry says, rubbing the back of his neck.

Draco takes a sip of coffee only to have something to do. 

“They’re beautiful,” He says, because Harry doesn’t continue. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Harry beams. Then, “Err, do you remember last night?”

Draco’s head hurts too much for him to roll his eyes, but he wants to.

“Yes,” He says. He puts the bouquet down on his desk. “I’m sorry I kissed you. I shouldn’t have.”

Harry’s face falls. “Oh.”

“No!” Draco says quickly. “That’s not what I - I shouldn’t have kissed you because I was drunk, and I don’t want to make it awkward! Not that I didn’t want to kiss you, because I did! Want to kiss you, I mean. I’ve actually wanted to kiss you for a while now, but I was too afraid to ruin anything between us, and then we went to your parents’, and it only made me want to kiss you more, and I don’t know if you like me back, and I might’ve fucked everything up-”

Harry shuts him up swiftly by kissing him. Draco’s too stunned to respond for a second, but then he melts into it, wrapping his arms around Harry’s neck and closing his eyes. Harry wraps his arms around Draco’s waist, pulls him closer until they’re flush against each other. 

It’s a much needed kiss; Draco isn’t particularly experienced in this area - he’s only had one boyfriend before, and they didn’t kiss often - so he lets Harry guide him, moaning softly when Harry deepens the kiss.

“I-” Draco says, slightly dazed, when they break apart. “Good. That was good.”

“Yeah?” Harry grins. “More?”

“Definitely.” Draco nods fevereshly, and Harry laughs and kisses him again.

They spend minutes, hours,  _days_  like that, until Draco’s sitting on his desk with his legs wrapped around Harry’s waist and Harry’s hands on his hips, and it’s  _good._

There’s none of the awkwardness that Draco usually feels when he’s with someone - none of the awkwardness he felt with Zabini the night before - and for once, his mind’s just… stopped. It’s blissful.

It turns out not to be  _good_  though, when someone clears their throat.

Harry and Draco pull apart, staring at Hermione Granger’s quirked lips and disapproving frown.

“I’m happy for you,” she says, honestly. “But  _in the work place_? That is  _beyond_  unprofessional!”

Harry only laughs, since Hermione is his friend, but Draco doesn’t know Granger well enough not to be embarrassed. He goes very red, and he scrambles to get off his desk, pinching Harry’s side to get him to let go of his possessive grip on his hip.

“You have a meeting.” He says pointedly. “At eight thirty. With Miss Granger. I’ll let you get to that.”

“Thank you, Draco,” Harry says, grinning happily, and stealing a chaste kiss and a squeeze of his hip that makes Draco even more mortified. “Let’s step into my office, okay, Hermione?”

Hermione nods and smiles. “I’ll see you, Mr. Malfoy.”

Draco manages to hold it together only until they step into Harry’s office, and then he melts like a pile of goo into his chair, mortified. Still, past the shame of Hermione finding them like that, his heart is light, and every muscle in his body feels loose, skin prickling, pleasurable waves of happiness rolling through his body.

“Fuck,” he rubs a hand over his head and laughs. “I’m never getting anything done at work again.”

**Author's Note:**

> [My Tumblr](https://mfingenius.tumblr.com/)


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